


The Captain

by JackieSBlake7



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7432139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackieSBlake7/pseuds/JackieSBlake7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vila and Avon make use of the customs on a planet.</p><p>Loosely based on the story of Wilhelm Voigt - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilhelm_Voigt</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Captain

‘I don’t like this place,’ Vila complained, and not “just for the sake of it”. ‘Too many soldiers running around like clockwork all over the place.’  
‘All that can be said for them is that the military are purely local and are not interested in us unless we give them reason to do so. But I agree – this place is too organised to be comfortable,’ Avon replied. ‘We should have let Blake come here alone as he wanted.’  
‘Next time we want a breath of fresh air and a stroll around somewhere new #we# select the place.’ The main reason for leaving the Liberator this time.  
‘Do Space City and Freedom City have such a commodity as fresh air?’ Avon asked, picking up on a couple of Vila’s previous suggestions.  
‘There are worse ambitions and dreams.’  
A group of soldiers went by. An officer of a different regiment by his uniform, came up to them, and issued a command that they follow him.  
‘That’s the rule here,’ Avon said, noting Vila’s expression, ‘any officer can co-opt any plain soldiers not otherwise engaged. Orders go from the top down – however seemingly contrary or bizarre – they must be obeyed. They might feel at home on the Liberator.’  
‘Army Rule number one – never volunteer for anything. Rule number two – this includes the army.’  
‘Some of the few rules you have kept I would imagine.’  
‘You likewise.’ Avon smiled agreement.  
They passed the municipal offices, a gloriously over the top confection with towers and spikes, crannies and statuettes.  
‘Who were they trying to impress?’ Vila wondered.  
‘Perhaps it was an entry for collecting the largest number of perching birds to a building competition. Or how much they could get in grants from the government and backhanders from the architects. The sections don’t even match.’ Vila decided to look through the guidebook he had acquired.  
‘Says here that there was a competition to design this place and they couldn’t agree on the winner, so they divided up sections of the building among the various entrants.’  
‘What did I say?’ Avon said. ‘Anything that has to be particularly missed?’ He was no philistine, but had seen enough such museums and galleries, antiquated libraries and such like as alternatives to Blake’s negotiations to be blasé about most of them.  
‘Usual variety of museums – assorted specimens for the game “animal, vegetable or mineral”, various bits of slightly outdated and generally useless technology developed here, some object belonging to somebody who knew someone famous, interchangeable relics of forty five supposedly well known persons… Basically, as the weather is not totally unreasonable, and the time we have available to look round here, almost all of it.’  
They narrowly avoided a security van stopping. Guards disembarked and hurried back and forth carrying strongboxes. ‘Payday already?’  
‘And we can’t get at it. It’s a purely local currency, and, as somebody would say, there’s more than enough on the Liberator not to run out in a long time.’ They managed to get through without being knocked over.  
‘It’s the thought – or the challenge – that counts.’ Vila referred to the guidebook again. ‘There are four statues and a park to avoid, a museum of slightly defunct objects – undergoing a thorough restoration. The wrappings on the building are probably more interesting than the contents.’  
‘Charge an excessive amount to go in, and then ask for donations for the restoration and more donations for new objects.’ Going by experience – the exceptions proving a pleasant surprise.  
Vila jabbed Avon, and nodded at the Federation troopers in the distance. By chance the two of them were outside the just derided museum and they went in. Avon looked around, decided from what he could see immediately, that this was one of the better museums he had been in, and remembered youthful visits to such places, some of which had been happy trips rather than time-fillers. This place was in a gentle genteel decline, unable to maintain itself in the style it deserved. The slightly melancholy air suited the place. Even Vila was impressed.  
‘There are worse places than here to hide,’ he said softly.  
‘Why hide?’ A curator, gliding in from nowhere.  
‘As in from the humdrum of outside,’ Vila retorted quickly. ‘Do you remember those?’ he asked Avon suddenly, of some toy that had been popular during his childhood.  
‘Vaguely.’  
‘This is a place of memory and it is being forgotten,’ the curator remarked. ‘Sometimes I think all it needs is for someone to give it a springclean and a little money and it would be as good as new.’  
‘I know the feeling,’ Vila said.  
‘You’ll get the money – eventually,’ Avon said. Vila was surprised – Avon sympathetic to somebody else? And he put a donation in the box as they left.  
‘You feeling alright Avon?’  
‘Yes – I am allowed to do occasional charitable acts am I not?’  
‘Shall I tell Blake?’ Vila teased. ‘But he wouldn’t believe it would he?’  
‘Nor that.’ Avon stopped and indicated why. The Federation troopers were having a disagreement over protocol with the local military and, apparently, losing the argument.  
‘Wouldn’t it be fun to dress up like a general and order everybody about?’  
‘I very much doubt anybody’d take you for an officer of high rank. Besides, why would a general be strolling around the town?’  
‘True. All that money that was going into the town hall.’  
‘No use anywhere but here,’ Avon pointed out.  
‘Think of the challenge,’ Vila repeated.  
‘Do you really think you can go into a fancy dress shop and walk out a general or – why not commander in chief of the entire military forces.’ Enjoying the full flight of fantasy.  
‘Perhaps I could then arrest Servalan. If she was here.’  
‘First you want to steal the wages, now you want to outdo Blake. Make up your mind. If you have one.’  
‘Making others do all the work you don’t want to is a sign of intelligence. Called delegation Avon. Do you think we should suggest it to Blake?’  
‘Delegation, or playing soldiers? He can’t think like a soldier and carry it off.’  
‘It or her – scam or Servalan? And we delegate all the more dangerous and less interesting bits elsewhere.’  
‘Very good Vila.’

It would have remained an idle exchange, had they not passed a military surplus store.  
Half an hour later they came out.  
‘Why didn’t you let me have the sword?’ Vila asked. It had been very decorative, and probably very saleable.  
‘Firstly because it does not go with your uniform, and secondly you would have tripped up over it within ten paces. Besides I thought you disliked bloodshed and work. Swords take hours to clean and polish. Every day.’  
‘As does the rest of this uncomfortable get up no doubt.’ Then Vila was given a salute. ‘See what you missed by claiming none of the costumes would fit you.’ The respect that was been shown to him – or rather his uniform – almost made up for the discomfort he was in.  
‘De you understand the plan?  
‘Commandeer a group of soldiers, rearrange the ownership of all that money we saw, and generally confuse the issue.’  
‘Yes.’  
‘Sometimes, Avon, I could quite like your plans.’

It proved easier than Vila expected, and he almost wished that Blake would not require their assistance too soon.  
Acting upon an impression of the Treasurer’s behaviour Vila asked Avon to do a check of the accounts, assuming that his working of the bank fraud would enable him to spot anything interesting. Avon did so with some initial ill grace, which turned to enthusiasm when the first “errors” turned up. Avon remarked loudly and with some pleasure that he could have done the shenanigans far better, and without being caught.  
The culprits were ordered to the central police bureau, “pending further enquiries” and the remaining soldiers were ordered to bring the money to a “place of safe keeping” – which turned out to be the museum. Vila was then sent out to “collect” any more “otherwise unengaged” soldiers. They were put to work on tidying and repairing the place. Some of them thought it odd, but it was not for them to question a senior officer’s instructions – and there were expressions of approval at their imposed task. Vila went round offering due praise or advice where he felt it was needed. If the uniform weren’t so uncomfortable, and the job hadn’t involved or implied so much hard work, he might have considered persisting in the deception.

He had a sudden idea ‘Avon – your turn to contribute.’ Avon looked at him, slightly puzzled. ‘You can present yourself as an officer better than I can – “promoted from the ranks” is the best impression I can do ‘  
‘Yes? What unworkable plan are you going to suggest now?’  
‘Can you get these soldiers to arrest their Federation counterparts?’ Vila added, as a hook ‘It would top anything Blake could achieve.’  
Avon smiled. ‘We are not playing a game Vila.’  
‘I didn’t say we were. We’re getting the locals to do what Blake intends better than Blake could – and making use of their culture. It’s win-win – even Blake gets what he wants.’  
‘Next you’ll be suggesting that I break into Space Command’s computers and divert all the Federation soldiers to such activities,’ Avon said with a laugh.  
‘Why not? Even if it does deprive Blake of the victory he wants. If the Federation stuck to practical things – navigation satellites and aiding trade and protection against Space Rats and suchlike – nobody would complain about it. Do the rebels themselves ever ask what the Federation is for?’  
‘Not often.’ Avon smiled. ‘I will see what I can do here – and the possibilities.’  
‘I also agree to your next statement.’  
‘Which is?’  
‘Don’t tell Blake.’

The building looked better than when they arrived, but Vila was too nervous to appreciate it properly, expecting the forces of the law to investigate.  
The soldiers had completed their imposed work: Vila thanked them for a job well done – and meant it.  
‘Several of the men,’ one of Vila’s “subordinates” said, ‘thought it was the best duty they have ever had imposed on them.’ There were murmurs of assent to this.  
.  
He had dismissed the soldiers, changed back into civilian clothes, and waiting by the main entrance for Avon, calculating the best way to the side exit to an alleyway he had discovered.  
The curator came in.  
‘Have I missed something while I was out?’ he asked with a smile. ‘I had several sudden meetings to attend to.’ And butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth either Vila thought. ‘Weren’t you here earlier?’  
‘Yes. I think you will find some improvements here.’ Avon, where are you?  
As if he were telepathic Avon came in with a newspaper under his arm. ‘Have you seen the headline? Daring robbery at the town hall. What are things coming to?’  
‘I am sure that you know as much as I do. I have just forgotten something I must buy – will you excuse me?’  
With that the curator left.  
‘I know – we leave by the side exit and never mention this.’  
‘Trust you to have planned your escape already,’ Avon replied, silently confirming the second part of Vila’s statement.  
‘Only sensible.’  
Five minutes later they were leaving the uniform-strewed alleyway.  
‘One thing Avon,’ Vila asked as they made their way circuitously to the main streets again, ‘was it your original intention to benefit the museum?’  
‘The money is worthless off planet. I enjoy the arts.’ Which was, Vila admitted, occasionally true. ‘Do you disapprove?’  
‘No. Better than lining a few dignitaries’ pockets. Besides, it’ll make a better story won’t it? Though I regret that I won’t be remembered for this.’  
‘All we have done is ensured that their unmemorable names will not be inflicted on future generations of museum-goers as being supposedly responsible for whatever developments. And this will be one legend of a “good deed” that won’t be assigned to Roj Blake.’ So that was what was behind it – Vila smiled to himself.  
‘Shall we do the same elsewhere?’


End file.
